A Kind of Strength
by Keieru
Summary: A Hermione-centric fic with assault, name-calling, and belated self-discovery. Takes place during book 4.


**A Kind of Strength**   
  
  
Hermione was not a popular person, and knew it. Not being the type of person who cared overly much about such things, she didn't let it bother her. Who had the time? She had to study, after all. And Harry and Ron needed someone to take care of them; they could be somewhat scatterbrained at the best of times. Hermione did not have time for the opinions of the rest of the world. But she was hurt nonetheless when several girls refused to speak with her one day. One particular girl, from Hufflepuff, even turned her back when Hermione asked to borrow a scroll. 

"What did I do?" Hermione asked. They had been on pleasant enough terms, and they ran into one another in the library often. Hermione had always thought of her as a decent sort. But the girl had never snubbed Hermione so directly before. 

"You've stolen Viktor Krum," came the answer. "You're always hanging around him at the library, and you're the only one he talks to!" 

"I'm usually at the library," Hermione pointed out. "I come here to study. I can't help it if he shows up here too." 

"But do you have to talk with him all the time?" the girl protested. "He never talks to any of us! You're trying to keep him to yourself!" 

Exasperation came easily to Hermione, and she let it color her words. "If you haven't noticed, he's the one who comes and talks to me, not the other way around. And maybe I'm the only one he talks to because I don't blush and simper and beg him to take me for a ride on his broomstick every time he so much as looks in my direction." 

The Hufflepuff girl burst into tears. "You're so cruel! But what did I expect, from a Mudblood?" She spat out the last word, making others at the library turn and stare. Then she grabbed her satchel and ran away. The other girls followed, with several glares at Hermione. 

Hermione deliberately looked the other way, and into the startled eyes of Viktor Krum himself. "I - I am sorry," he blurted. "I had not meant to intrude -" 

Hermione felt a blush staining her cheeks. "It's all right," she said, and gathered her books. She tried to keep her voice light. "It's nothing I haven't been called before." Breathing steadily, she managed to force down the irritation. 

When she had rolled up the last scroll and stuffed it in her bag, Krum was still standing there. "Yes?" she asked politely. 

Krum scuffled a foot. "You are... Muggle-born? You?" 

Hermione could not believe it. This, from Krum! Her hard-won aplomb evaporated. "Yes," she hissed, with such unaccustomed anger that Krum retreated a step. "I'm a Mudblood. But I'm one of the best witches in this school, so you had better watch your tongue. I don't care if you're a pureblood descended from Godric Gryffindor himself, it still wouldn't make you better than me!" Riding the high tide of her anger, she spun on her heel and left while he was still trying to parse her sentence. 

She had never been so angry. Her ears were ringing as her quick fierce steps took her out of the library. From Krum, of all people! She'd actually been starting to think well of him. But it seemed that even the most sensible of wizarding folk were subject to stupid preconceptions. Being Muggle-born didn't usually bother Hermione; she loved her parents and didn't feel the slightest shame from being their daughter. But the name still rankled, had driven her to take Muggle Studies just to learn the wizarding point of view, had driven her to try to become the best witch in the school even beyond where her natural diligence would take her. She'd teach them to call her a Mudblood, oh yes. She'd prove herself. She'd show them that even a Mudblood could be one of the best witches in history. She'd show them all. 

She'd taken a wrong turn. Hermione ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, wishing that she had better control over her temper. Hogwarts was a mazelike building; it was so easy to get lost. She retraced her steps, but hesitated when the hall branched into three passages. 

"Not a problem," she said to herself. She was a witch, after all, wasn't she? Hermione smiled and pulled out her wand to summon a map. 

"Expelliarmus!" said a voice that was not hers. And her wand flew out of her hand, to smack into the wall opposite. Marcus Flint picked it up, eyes glittering unpleasantly. With him stood Crabbe and Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione felt a lightning-flare of anger. "Give that back!" 

Flint turned and addressed Malfoy as if Hermione hadn't even spoken. "What a fortunate coincidence. Draco, you've been having some trouble in classes, yes?" 

Malfoy nodded, a mischevious light dawning in his eyes. 

Crabbe butted in. "Draco's father's pretty annoyed that he was outscored by a Mudblood last year," he said. Malfoy elbowed him. 

"He deserved it," Hermione said, starting forward. "Now give me my wand back!" 

Flint seized her arm and twisted it, making her gasp and drop her bag. "Seems we ought to teach the Mudblood her proper place," he said. He gave Hermione a shake that rattled her teeth together. "Want to take a punch, Draco?" 

"She's - a really good witch, Marcus," Malfoy warned, although he looked as if saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth. 

"A Mudblood," Flint shrugged. "And she's nothing without her wand, anyway." With a contemptuous sound he tossed it to Crabbe, who stuck it in his pocket. 

Hermione yelled and struggled, earning another shake from Flint. "Here, Crabbe," he said. "Grab this arm. And Draco, you take the other and cover her mouth." 

Malfoy complied with far too much relish. "What're we going to do? Put a couple of nasty curses on her? I've learned an interesting lot." Hermione tried to bite his fingers, and his grip on her other arm tightened until she gasped. 

"It's a good idea. But I want to teach her a lesson she won't forget," Flint said, stepping back and regarding her. 

"What sort of lesson?" Crabbe piped up. 

"I know just the sort," Flint said, a grin twisting his face. "She's not that bad-looking. Hold her still, now." He opened the front of his robe and reached for the closure to his pants. Hermione knew a moment of pure terror. 

"Wait - just a moment," Malfoy blurted. "That's not - I mean, we can't - just -" His cultured voice was, for once, uncertain. "Marcus, there's an Auror in the school! What if -" 

"She's a Mudblood," Flint repeated patiently. "No one would believe her word over ours. It's just the same as if she were a Muggle. You of all people should know what her sort's worth." He undid the button on his pants. 

"But..." Malfoy's voice faded away, and his grip on her arm loosened. Crabbe's hold, however, was still firm. 

Hermione tried to bury her panic, and searched her mind for a spell - any spell - that did not involve the speaking of words, or the need for a wand. There was nothing, of course. Tremors washed through her. If only she knew how to Apparate! Without her wand, she was helpless. 

Then she gave herself a mental shake. Of course she wasn't helpless. 

She went limp, making Malfoy and Crabbe support all her weight. Her parents had made her take self-defense lessons. As with everything else, Hermione had excelled. Using her captors as leverage, she kicked upwards with all her strength. 

She struck Flint square in the groin with sensible thick-soled tennis shoes. Good Muggle make, she thought fiercely. The holds on her arms had slackened with surprise and she forced her way free, turning to give Malfoy a good elbow in the stomach. "What d'you think of Mudbloods now, huh?" she panted. "Muggles don't need wands to fight." 

Malfoy staggered against the wall, gasping. Crabbe skittered aside. "That's mine!" Hermione cried, lunging for the wand in his pocket. 

Hands caught at her robe. "Not so fast, Mudblood," Marcus Flint wheezed. "Goyle! Here!" 

Pounding footsteps approached, and Hermione felt panic again. Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle were all much bigger than she - she couldn't possibly hope to take them all on. For his part, Draco Malfoy was slumped against the wall, one hand pressed to his side. He didn't seem inclined to move, wide blue eyes taking everything in. He seemed to be staying out of the fight, probably more out of fear of retaliation than anything else. 

Logic came to her, cool and unassailable. Very well, it would be three against one. The rational thing would be to nullify Flint and Crabbe first, before Goyle arrived. Flint wasn't in the best of shape, and she made sure of it with a kick that nearly broke his nose. She sought out Crabbe's solar plexus with careful precision, one fist after another; at least one impact must have made it past the bulk of his belly because he folded, grunting. Then she turned to face Goyle. 

Goyle was no threat. Viktor Krum - of all people! - had seized him with a Body-Bind spell, and his bulk lay harmlessly on the floor. 

Krum walked up to her. "You are all right?" 

"Of course!" Hermione jerked her wand out of Crabbe's back pocket. "Well... I am now." 

"You are - how do you say? - amazing." Krum glared at the retreating Slytherins with even more of a scowl than usual. 

"What, even for a Mudblood?" Hermione couldn't help saying. 

Krum made a sort of one-shoulder shrug. "These names, they are stupid. Strength, it comes in many forms." 

Flint and Crabbe were crawling away, fear and awe in their faces. Malfoy had already disappeared. Hermione found herself grinning, elated by victory and the indirect compliment she'd been paid. "They underestimate Mudbloods and Muggles," she said proudly. 

Krum nodded solemnly. "It is good that they learn." His eyes crinkled slightly at the edges. Was that a smile? "Would you like to come back to the library?" he asked. 

Hermione nodded, picking up her bag again. Then, still warm with victory and newfound acceptance, she gave him a bright smile. "Don't suppose you'd like to study together?" 

Wordlessly, Krum held out his arm to her.   
  
  


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Okay, so it's my first HP fic. What d'you think? =) 

Be kind, people. Krum's amazingly difficult to write, and I finally decided to take all of the "ve" and "haff" out of his dialogue; it just looked silly. I guess J.K. Rowling is the only one who can do it right... Anyway, I was trying to figure out why he respected Hermione so much. Sorry I made Flint into a one-dimensional badguy, but that's what he is in the series too, so it must be okay. 


End file.
